Not Meek, Not Biddable, Too Unconventional, So Very Screwed

Summary:

In a world where Betas have become the norm, but Alphas are still the leaders, the wealthy, the powerful, Omegas are very rare and the only ones who can birth or sire Alphas with other Alphas. Born to two Betas, raised as a Beta, of course Stiles presents as an Omega on his sixteenth birthday because his life sucks that way. One month later is his ceremony where technically he chooses an Alpha as his mate for the rest of their lives, and Stiles is given three options. One isn't ever going to happen, a second doesn't really want him, so he chooses the third--a man twice his age, scarred and just out of a six year coma. Scared, because he has very few rights and this stranger can do anything to him, control any aspect of his life, and Stiles isn't a stereotypical submissive Omega happy to be home ironing shirts and suckling babies, he's surprised to find that Peter isn't a stereotype either (for one, he's a damn good cook). Is it possible that his life won't suck that much after all?

Notes:

Written for the Teen Wolf Big Bang and incorporating a few paragraphs and the ideas from a short fic written a year ago, but expanding on that by about 15000 words, this is my own vision of ABO. Notes about the universe that go beyond the explanations in the beginning of the fic are here. The gorgeous art, some of which is incorporated in the story, by Tarlan is here.

The dubious consent warning is because, while Stiles chooses his Alpha, he still has to have sex with and make a life with basically a stranger. The mpreg is offscreen.

The Hale fire still happened and Peter was burned and in a vegetative state for six years.

Work Text:

On his sixteenth birthday when he presented as an Omega, Stiles wasn't happy, but he also wasn't all that surprised. Even before his mother died, nurturing had been his thing. He was good at keeping house, cooking, planning and staying within a budget. He loved kids. Also, his life sucked, so of course he was an Omega.

Because, in a world where ninety-five percent of people were Betas and four percent were Alphas, that made Omegas very unique, very rare.

And coveted.

All the history lessons drummed into him over the years told him his place in the world.

In the Middle Ages the numbers of the three genders were nearly equal, but gradually the children born to any of the genders presented more often as Betas and the disparity grew. Only an Alpha could sire or give birth to an Alpha and only with an Omega mate. In a turbulent world, Alphas were needed. They were the warriors, the strategists, the source of most of the wealth. They were the elite, the kings and queens.

Over the next several centuries, the numbers of Alphas being born dropped dramatically, many families died out completely and most of the surviving only had one born Alpha in a generation. Wars broke out over Betas claiming Omegas. Barbarism descended until about a century before when the mostly Beta run governments of the world enacted strict laws to regulate the claiming and protection of Omegas, which pretty much only benefitted Alphas. Betas were outlawed from mating with Omegas, and Omegas, so low in numbers, were mated to Alphas whether they wanted to be or not. Omegas were the only chance to keep the Alpha gender alive, so it was a sacrifice they were expected to make. They also had a better chance of producing more Omegas. Statistics showed that the offspring of Alpha and Omega matings were usually one and a half Alphas--most had one--one Omega--if they were lucky--and four to six Betas.

If an Alpha wanted to have children--which was expected of Alphas--they had no choice but to claim an Omega. Alphas who never found an Omega to claim were expected to stay mate and child free, though sex was always allowed for them and it wasn't illegal for them to mate with a Beta or even another Alpha, just very rare, especially for male Alphas as there was always the chance they'd find an Omega in their later years. By the middle of the last century, birth control became highly regulated and enforced on Alphas without an Omega mate because Alphas tended to be very virile or fertile, and the world didn't need more Betas. There had never been an Alpha or Omega born to an Alpha without an Omega mate. It simply wasn't physically possible. Occasionally two Betas would produce an Omega--Stiles was evidence of that--but it was very rare and so most Beta pairs didn't raise their children as anything but probable Betas.

Stiles might be nurturing but he was opinionated and intelligent, as well. Not the kind of mate most Alphas wanted, and he was of the opinion that Alphas were macho dickheads. There was only one in his school--Jackson Whittemore--and it surprised no one that he presented as one, being both the product of an Alpha and Omega mating and a major douche. Stiles was highly amused when Lydia, Jackson's girlfriend and the object of his own eternal devotion, presented as a Beta. For one month he thought maybe he'd have a shot with her after all, but then his own sixteenth birthday came and his Omega status revealed itself.

Along with the twin disappointments of the loss of the possibility of Lydia and his own bleak future, came a major concern about Jackson, as Stiles was the only unmated Omega and Jackson the only unmated Alpha in Beacon Hills. Luckily, Jackson seemed as disgusted by the idea as Stiles, not that Stiles would have any say if no one else offered and Jackson caved into his father's pressure and put in a claim.

While Alphas could go forever without claiming a mate--and many did due to the number disparity--Omegas had three opportunities to be chosen--one month after their sixteenth birthday, and on their seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays. No one really knew what would happen if an Omega went unclaimed because over ninety percent were taken that first time. None in all recorded history had made it past eighteen without getting an Alpha mate.

Even in the modern era when they weren't really needed for their physical strength and fighting ability, Alphas still made up most of the wealthiest and powerful families on earth, and, simply, they wanted more Alphas to be born and they could only do that with an Omega, so appearance, intelligence, personality, none of that really mattered. Virginity did matter--an antiquated idea that pissed Stiles off when he thought about it--and an Omega found to have lost his or hers unmated faced severe punishment. This usually entailed being given at the first opportunity to whatever Alpha would take them as mate. Stiles had seen it happen a few years before to a sixteen year old girl from a neighboring town who had a Beta boyfriend she'd slept with shortly before her presenting. On discovery of her lack of a hymen, the Alpha the government chose for her--giving her absolutely no say--was old and mean looking.

So, the first thing that happened to all Omegas was a physical examination to determine virginity. Stiles found it humiliating for many reasons, most of them due to the fact he was having to get used to his new secondary sex organs and now dispassionate Beta doctors were prodding at them. While they didn't care if he'd slept with a girl--and had no way to prove or disprove that he had--most Alphas were males and his hymen had to be intact.

Shiny and new, it was.

As those first four weeks after he turned sixteen sped by, Stiles became more and more depressed over the whole thing. Being a baby maker to some arrogant, possibly mean, old and ugly, asshole was not what he wanted for his life, but the laws gave him very little say in his future. It would be up to his Alpha if he could continue his education, work outside the home or even leave the home unaccompanied, do anything more than run the house and have babies. There were always the horror stories of Omegas chained to beds, pure breeding stock as well, though that was illegal in the United States at least. Stiles was sure it still happened, though, and was more likely to happen to a mouthy Omega like him.

He certainly could imagine Jackson doing that to him.

And then there was the choosing process itself, something he dreaded more every day he thought about it.

If more than one Alpha put in a prospective claim, he did have the right to choose--at least they no longer battled over Omegas. There were highly regulated and monitored meetings and interviews and then he'd pick. Turning them all down was not an option. If any asked for him, he'd be mated by nightfall.

Stiles just figured he had to make himself as unattractive as possible to avoid anyone asking for him. It was rare, but did occasionally happen. An Alpha could always be picky and there were some male ones that only wanted females. Omega Females were very rare, only about seven percent of the gender, while Alphas were about eighty-eight percent male. Omega Females never made it unmated past the first choosing.

But, he was pretty sure that making himself unattractive wasn't going to work. He could be a drooling nutcase with acne and one leg and an Alpha would take him. His luck sucked that way and the numbers were not on his side.

It really was depressing.

So, on the morning four weeks after he turned sixteen, Stiles awoke with a knot in his stomach, a dry throat, and a headache. None of which were going to prevent this from happening. As he plodded through his shower and dragged on clothes he went over all the plans he and his best friend, Scott, a lucky Beta, had come up with to get him out of this, up to running willy nilly for the nearest border--not that it would do any good as the laws were pretty much the same in Canada and a lot harsher in Mexico. There were some backwards countries where Omegas were kept by their Alphas naked and in golden chains. At least he didn't face that horrific fate. Hopefully.

With a heavy heart, he stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen where his dad was sympathetic and worried and had made all his favorite breakfast foods--chocolate pop tarts, crispy bacon, and peanut butter cereal. Sadly, he had no appetite but gamely took a few bites of each while listening to his dad tell him how much he loved him and how any Alpha who chose him would get a gem and all kinds of stuff dads were supposed to tell their Omega kids before sending them to their dooms.

As the father of an Omega, he had the right to attend the choosing ceremony, but Stiles had told him the week before that he would handle this on his own. He was a man, okay one able to have babies and one probably about to be relegated to the kitchen, but he shaved and had a fully working penis, so he was a man.

Scared to death, but still a man.

The ceremony began at ten in the morning sharp. Stiles drove himself, wondering if this would be the last time he'd drive his beloved jeep--he'd just gotten his adult license, dammit and now his Alpha would have the right to decide if he could drive--and half-hoping that someone would plow into him. To his dismay, he made it safely to city hall. As the only Omega that day, the ceremony--why they called it that, he had no clue--was held in a conference room with a smaller room to the side where he could meet with Alphas if more than one wanted him. By tradition, he arrived first, and was met by a Beta who explained everything he already knew, then seated him at the head of the table before leaving him with his ever-increasingly panicky thoughts.

As Stiles drummed his fingers on the table, growing more and more nervous by the second, he hoped he didn't throw up on whatever Alpha came through the door.

Or, maybe he should hope to throw up. That couldn't be attractive, right?

The door opened.

He was going to barf undigested chocolate peanut butter carbs and bacon.

Smirk on his face, eyes hard as ice, Jackson Whittemore strutted into the room.

When he did see them, he froze. Both were easily recognizable. Both were notorious in Beacon Hills.

When the Hell had Peter Hale, face and body disfigured by burn scars from the fire six years before and last Stiles had heard, basically a vegetable, gotten well enough to leave the hospital?

And when did his nephew, Derek, come back to town? And why was he an Alpha? Everyone assumed he was a Beta! Before the fire that wiped out his family when he was not yet sixteen, he'd acted like a Beta. His older sister was an Alpha. No one needed him to be an Alpha. Despite the one and a half odds for Alpha births, those had been diminishing for over a century and it was almost unheard of for there to be two siblings...

But, then Peter was an Alpha as had been his older sister, so it was probably a genetic thing, and Stiles knew he was screwed.

If one of them chose him, he'd be pregnant every year for the chance at more than one Alpha kid.

Oh fuck...

Stiles let his forehead thunk on the table. One of the Alphas snorted in amusement. He was pretty sure it was Peter.

Where was that vomit, dammit?

After a moment, determined to be brave at least on the exterior, he slowly lifted his head and looked at the three Alphas taking seats around the table. The Beta officer placed papers and pens in front of each of them, then took a seat to the side, looking bored. She was supposed to be Stiles' advocate, but he figured she'd keep to the bare bones of the law and try to get this over with as soon as possible.

She did make the introductions.

"Mr. Peter Hale, Mr. Derek Hale, Mr. Jackson Whittemore, this is Omega..." She stumbled over his first name and Stiles sighed. "Er...Stilinski."

"Stiles, call me Stiles," he muttered, though he figured they could call him whatever they wanted if he ended up with one of them.

"The Sheriff's son?" Peter asked with some interest. At the advocate's affirmation, he continued, "Born to two Betas, interesting. Let me guess, you're not meek and biddable."

Nervous at the look on the oldest Alpha's face--not one of disgust--Stiles licked his lips before answering, "No."

"Stilinski? Yeah, no," Jackson snorted.

The expression on Derek's face didn't change at all--he was closed off and cold, and his arms crossed over his chest seemed to indicate that he really didn't want to be here, but then Stiles understood the pressure on Alphas. He figured if Derek chose him or he chose Derek, the Alpha would do his duty.

The man was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark stubble on his cheeks, light yet hard eyes, muscles rippling beneath his Henley top. The look he was giving him was inscrutable, though, and it made Stiles nervous enough to gulp and jerk his eyes to Peter.

Peter who had bright blue eyes full of intelligence and just a hint of a smile twisting on his lips. Yeah, the scars were ugly and he did nothing to hide them, but...at least he looked welcoming.

Jackson wasn't even an option.

And, for that, Stiles was relieved. If he'd been the only one to come in...Stiles didn't even want to think about that because the asshole was already filling out the claim in front of him. He just had to pray one of the others put in a claim, too.

The Beta opened a file and started to read. "Omega Stilinski is a virgin and fertile, having had his first menstrual cycle two weeks ago. The tested egg was viable." He reddened at that, though that was pretty obvious or no one would be here choosing. "Five foot eleven inches, one hundred and forty seven pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, both dominant from his mother." For a moment she hesitated, then blew air out of her nose. "While physically healthy, he was diagnosed at age nine with childhood Attention Deficit Disorder which has progressed to Adult Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder for which he takes the drug Adderall. There is a chance he will still outgrow this and the drug level he has been on for several years has stabilized him. It is recommended that he be allowed his medication and regular doctor's appointments." Jesus, Stiles hadn't even thought they'd deny him that.

When there were no comments she quickly went on to outline the broken shoulder bone he suffered in lacrosse the year before, the two broken toes he got as a kid when stubbing them on things, the chicken pox at five, his perfect eyesight and lack of one wisdom tooth, along with all his up-to-date inoculations.

Jesus.

When she was done and closed the file, Peter said, "You're an only child."

Stiles swallowed hard, but didn't have to answer as the advocate did, though she was hesitant. "Mrs. Stilinski died from pre-temporal frontal dementia. It can be genetic, but Alpha and Omega children cannot contract it, whether they carry the genetic trait or not," she quickly added, looking nervous.

For a brief moment, Stiles felt hope. Maybe that would be enough to make them leave without offering for him.

Making a disgusted noise, Jackson stopped writing, and his hopes rose.

"Hm...Derek?" Peter turned his attention to his nephew who was still staring at Stiles and making him want to squirm.

"Beta children could contract it, though. All could be carriers." Derek's voice was higher than expected, but there was a roughness to it. He didn't want to be here.

"It's a possibility," the woman said slowly.

"It's worth the risk," Peter stated firmly as he picked up the pen, and Stiles felt a weird relief flood him. While he still had hoped no one would put in a claim, Peter at least was better than Jackson, and Derek just...worried him.

Though Stiles did see something other than coldness in the younger Hale when he turned to his uncle and murmured, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I lost six years, Derek. I don't want to wait any more."

"He's a kid."

Peter snorted and signed the document before passing it to the Beta. "Age is a state of being only, Derek. Are you going to put in a claim?"

Stiles watched as something passed between the two Alphas. Derek fingered the pen, tapped it on the piece of paper, then looked at Stiles.

"You want him, Peter. I..."

Don't. That was so obvious, but then Derek's eyes traveled to Jackson who was smirking as if he'd won already, and Stiles found his courage, his eyes meeting Peter's. "Don't bother finishing the paperwork, Jackson. I'm choosing Peter." Ignoring Jackson's glower and smacking of the pen down on the table as he started to complain, Stiles reached out one trembling hand. "Stiles Stilinski."

Actually surprised, Peter clasped the hand in a strong one and shook it. "Peter Hale."

"Hope you know what you're getting into," Jackson muttered before rising to storm out of the room.

Peter lips twisted, but he didn't seem bothered by the implication that he was the third choice.

"Fine," the Beta huffed and gave Peter's paperwork a quick review before passing it to Stiles. "Sign and date at the bottom." As he read through the document--which also annoyed the woman--she turned back to Peter. "Your Omega will be delivered to your place of residence at six o'clock tonight."

Great, he was a pizza.

As the woman led Peter away for more paperwork, Stiles mumbled a goodbye, then lowered his face to his hands. Jesus, this was really happening. When he finally took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his hair before lifting back up, he realized Derek was still there. All dark looks and dark stubble and dark clothes.

"Um..."

"My uncle's only been out of his catatonic state for a month. He's fragile. The scars will never go away. If you hurt him..."

Threats Stiles understood. "Yeah, no, I mean, I won't, or I'll try not to. I...I'm good at taking care of people," he finished a bit lamely.

"Good. He needs it and deserves it." Derek turned to leave.

"Wait. Why did you come here? I mean, it was obvious you didn't want me."

Slowly Derek looked over his shoulder, his face, for the first time, showing some emotion. "My family founded this town. My sister, she thought a Hale should claim the first Omega born here in nearly two decades, and she already has a mate, and we thought..."

"I'd never choose Peter."

With a nod, Derek left the room.

Stiles was allowed to return home with instructions to pack and be ready at a quarter till six. Before he left he signed a few more documents, including one in which he agreed to a medical exam within twenty four hours of arriving at his mate's home. They wanted to make sure he was no longer a virgin. The document was full of disclaimers and warnings. If he wasn't physically claimed by six o'clock the following night, he'd be taken from Peter and given to another Alpha.

And that would most likely be Jackson.

Stiles was a bit worried about Peter's physical condition, though he seemed to walk with no difficulty, but surely he wouldn't claim a mate if he couldn't actually have sex with him.

The thought of sex sent him skittering quickly to the car. The less thought about that, the better.

To his surprise, his dad had taken the day off work and was at the front door as soon as the jeep stopped in the driveway, an anxious look on his face. Stiles tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he figured it fell flat as his anxiety ramped up. As soon as he reached him, his dad pulled him into his arms and the house where they hugged for several minutes before Stiles finally pulled back.

"Did...?"

"Yeah." Feeling himself flush, Stiles went into the kitchen to start putting sandwiches together. Now that it was over he was actually hungry. "There were three; two put in claims. I chose."

"Was Jackson one of them?" His dad knew his fears about the young Alpha.

"Yeah."

"So, it really wasn't a choice," his dad huffed as he slumped down at the table.

"It's okay, dad. At least there was another option, and, it's okay. Really."

"Must be from outside of Beacon Hills. You'll be moving away?"

"Actually, no. It's..." Stiles turned from slathering mustard on bread and nibbled on his lower lip before admitting, "It's Peter Hale." That surprised his dad. "He came out of his vegetative state. He has a house here in town, so, I guess for now I won't be going far."

"He's...a lot older than you."

"Dad, you know that doesn't matter," Stiles said faintly before returning to his sandwich making.

"And injured."

"Scarred. It's okay. He has...nice eyes." Well, he wasn't really sure they were nice, but they were intelligent, and he couldn't let his dad know just how scared he was growing every minute. So, he busied himself. He placed the plates on the table, then fetched bottles of iced tea from the fridge before joining his father who was giving him sad looks that were making him want to squirm. "Dad..."

"I'm sorry, Stiles."

Stiles' eyes widened at the guilt on his father's face. "For what? Nothing you or mom did made me an Omega."

"We raised you to be bold, outgoing, to argue, to...to..."

"Dad. I'm not a stereotypical Omega and I'm grateful for that," he replied softly, reaching over and taking his dad's hand to squeeze it, noticing that John clung to him tightly. "If Peter is your basic Alpha douchebag, I'll live with it. I don't have a choice."

"This is 2013! No one should have to go through this, let alone at sixteen. It's just...wrong."

"Then fight for Omega rights, dad, but you gotta know that the way you raised me, I'll be okay. I am strong and smart. Okay, a bit mouthy." He almost smiled at John's snort of agreement. "And I do have rights. Believe me, if Peter mistreats me, I'll be at the station so damn fast..."

"Okay...okay...I know you're all of that. I'm just..." He blew out a breath. "Your dad."

"And best dad ever!"

The rest of the afternoon was spent packing a few bags, his favorite books and comics he hadn't read yet, his laptop, clothes and other essentials--the rest would be sent over later--and avoiding talking about anything about his mate and future. Around five thirty, the two men set the bags by the front door and then just hugged. Emotion welled up in him, but Stiles fought it back.

He wasn't a weepy, stereotypical Omega, dammit.

When the doorbell rang to reveal two Beta males and an official looking Buick car waiting for him, he told his dad goodbye and that he'd call tomorrow--hoping he'd be allowed to because, yeah, he had rights, but most of those were granted by his Alpha. Even in the most modern countries in the world, abuse of Omegas existed and was usually hushed up by the governments that turned blind eyes to everything but the worst cases.

As he slid into the car, heart hammering in his chest, Stiles wished he believed in a god he could pray to. He'd signed his life away to a man he didn't know just to avoid one he did.

Swallowing down the panic building in him, he steadfastly refused to look back at his dad and his house and his life.

The house they pulled up to wasn't a huge mansion. It was in one of the nicer neighborhoods and looked relatively new, but it was just a house. As the men unloaded his bags, Stiles slid from the backseat and walked up the brick path to the front door. The decision to ring the doorbell was taken out of his hands as the driver did it for him. A moment later the door opened and Peter stood there, still dressed in the casual jeans and lightweight navy sweater he'd been wearing before.

Well, Stiles hadn't changed either. It wasn't like there was any kind of ceremony ahead of them. Just sex.

Gah.

He really wasn't ready to think about that.

"Thank you gentlemen. Please set the bags over there. We'll take them from here."

In just a few seconds, there was a pile of suitcase, laptop case and backpack in the corner of a simply decorated foyer, and the door was closing behind the men, leaving Stiles with his mate.

"I thought we could share a light supper and talk."

Nodding, Stiles followed Peter down a hall and past a living room, dining room, and staircase to a large, warmly decorated kitchen. Everything looked very new, barely touched, but that made sense. The fire had destroyed pretty much everything in the Hale compound, and Peter had been hospitalized for six years.

"I was given a complete copy of your medical records so I know you have no food allergies, but I stuck with something simple." As Peter spoke, he moved to the stove and took a pot off to drain into a colander. "Just pasta primavera with some grilled chicken."

"You cook?" Alphas didn't tend to be domestic.

"I used to cook all the time," Peter replied softly, then began to fill plates. "What about you?" he asked as he brought them to the table set for two.

Taking a seat, Stiles reached for a pitcher of lemonade to pour them each a glass. "I can cook simple things. I had to learn. My dad, he'd just eat fast food if I let him." He was worried about that, but, frankly it wasn't on the top of his list of concerns right now.

"We can share the cooking duties then and maybe have your father over for dinner once a week or so."

Stiles knew his mouth had dropped when Peter just smirked at him and took a bite of pasta. "I think you'll find that I'm not a stereotype. My guess is that you're not as well."

"I was raised..." he started to blurt, then dropped his eyes to his plate.

"As a Beta. That was obvious."

"I don't know if I can change that."

"I'm not asking you to."

They eyes met and held for a moment, then they both resumed eating. After a few bites of truly delicious food, Stiles' curiosity got the better of him--also not an Omega trait. "Were you surprised when you presented as an Alpha?"

"I was. Talia was my elder by a dozen years. She already had a mate and two children. Our two older brothers were Betas. I was a surprise baby and, frankly, I think my father at least believed I'd be an Omega. Even after I started putting on muscle as a teen." He made a dismissive noise and picked up his glass. "Needless to say, father and I didn't get along very well."

"He was the Alpha?"

Nodding, Peter added, "And much more of a stereotypical one as my mother was the same for an Omega. They did seem to care for each other though." His eyes took on a distant look, and Stiles remembered that the fire had killed Peter's mother, his father having passed a few years before.

He knew what the loss of a mother could do. No matter how old you were, you didn't get over it.

And, suddenly, Stiles needed to know just what his life was going to be. Pushing aside his half-empty plate and gulping down some lemonade, he gathered his courage to ask. "Peter, what do you expect of me? I mean, what...what am I supposed to do?" Besides having kids, because that's what all Omegas were supposed to do. "I'm not meek or biddable or...or happy to be an Omega. I'm sorry, I just can't be."

The distant look left Peter's startling blue eyes and they zoomed to his, not hard or cold, but not exactly happy either. Stiles held his ground, though, not dropping his gaze or flinching back, and the look in Peter's eyes faded.

"I don't know." The Alpha seemed baffled by his own confusion. "When I started seriously looking for an Omega about ten years ago, I simply wanted children. It's a biological urge in Alphas." Knowing that, Stiles nodded. "I went to several choosing ceremonies and discovered that the Omegas I'd known, my mother and Talia's mate, were not particularly the kind of Omega I was interested in. Those happy in the home, surrounded by children, with no interest in intellectual pursuits, the fine arts, or travel."

"Stereotypes."

Peter nodded. "And those were the types mostly presenting, so I didn't put in any offers. But I don't think I was the type of Alpha many Omegas were looking for either. Too cultured, not aggressive enough, though don't get me wrong, I can be, just more with my words than my muscles. So, I didn't have any luck and then the fire..."

The fire. Yeah, that begged a question. "What brought you back?"

At that, Peter smiled a wistful smile. "I believe it was you. I woke up the day you presented. It was nearly a week before the announcement was made that an Omega had presented in Beacon Hills, but I was already recovering my faculties."

"Well...that's weird."

"So, I was determined to attend your ceremony. I had no expectations you'd pick me, not over my nephew, but I wanted to meet you."

"Derek didn't want me."

"He would have put in an offer. We wanted a Hale to claim you. But why didn't you choose the young man closer to your own age?"

"Major douchebag." At Peter's laugh, Stiles snorted. "I've known him most of my life and he's always had Alpha tendencies. No one was surprised when he presented as one. He's pushed me and my friends around for a decade. I just...the thought of him..." As an image of Jackson forcing him onto his stomach reared in his head, he swallowed hard. "Anyone was better."

"Even an old, scarred and damaged man?"

"Anyone. I don't say that to hurt you. I don't know you and I may have made the worst possible decision, but that's what the ceremony does. There's never a good choice. You can do pretty much anything you want to me and, yeah, my dad's the Sheriff, but if I can't get to him..."

Setting his fork down forcefully, Peter snapped, "I don't plan to keep you a prisoner."

A part of him wanted to drop his eyes, beg forgiveness, and Stiles hated that part. "But, you plan to keep me."

Eyes narrowing and lips pursing, Peter nodded. "I may not seem like an Alpha, but I am one, Stiles. By your own choice, you're my Omega."

"Choice. Yeah, that's funny. The law pretties it up, but it took away my real choice. Not to have an Alpha at all."

An icy silence fell over the table, and then Peter pushed back his chair and stood. Not wanting to be in a submissive position, Stiles scrambled to his feet, too, worried that he'd pushed the Alpha too far with his uncontrollable mouth.

"All right, I'll give you a choice. You can go upstairs to our bedroom, the one at the end of the hall on the left, or you can call your father to come pick you up." Peter's voice was firm, his eyes hard, and Stiles forced down a shiver.

That wasn't a choice because if he went home, tomorrow night he'd belong to Jackson.

Heart thudding heavily in his chest, he finally dropped his eyes and nodded, then left the kitchen. The delicious dinner now sat sourly in his stomach, and he swallowed convulsively several times as he fetched his suitcase and lugged it up the stairs to the bedroom at the end of the hall. His eyes focused fearfully on the large four poster bed covered in a navy and gold patterned spread, he barely noticed the other decor.

"Great going, Stilinski," he muttered to himself, dropping his suitcase and fitfully tugging on his hair. "You just had to piss off the Alpha."

Idiot, idiot, idiot, he berated himself as he sank down to the floor at the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees. The contract said he had to lose his virginity by tomorrow night. Nowhere did it say it had to be good for him. It didn't mention gentleness or tenderness or care or anything.

The laws in place to protect Omegas were all a sham to give Alphas sex slaves and baby makers. Stiles had known this for years.

And now that was him.

Peter could throw him onto the bed, rip off his clothes and just fuck him and no one would do anything to him. Even Stiles' dad could do nothing legally. Marital rape was a prosecutable offense between Betas, but didn't even exist as a crime against Omegas.

He wouldn't cry over it, though. He'd cried enough over the last month. He wasn't the milquetoast kind of Omega. He wasn't weepy and pathetic. Somehow...somehow, despite whatever Peter did to him, he had to hold onto that.

Though he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure he even knew how to placate an angry Alpha.

So lost in his own thoughts, Stiles didn't realize he wasn't alone anymore until Peter's hand brushed over the top of his head. Jerking back and flailing a bit, he found the older man crouched in front of him, concern, not anger, in his eyes and his touch.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, uncurling himself and pushing to his feet as Peter rose as well.

"For speaking your mind? I'd rather there was truth between us, even hard truth, over faked emotions." Peter sighed softly. "I'm not angry with you, Stiles. I was telling the truth earlier. The majority of Omegas don't interest me at all. You do. I'll also truthfully admit that regardless of your personality or your looks, I would have put in a claim. I want, no, I need children. We lost so many in the fire. I have this need to rebuild the family."

Stiles nodded numbly. It was a biological urge in Alphas. It was supposed to exist in Omegas, too, but he didn't feel it, though he'd read that Alphas didn't start to feel it until they were older so probably Omegas didn't either. By the time he was Peter's age, he'd probably have several children and wouldn't need to feel it.

"Stiles, I feel that I got very lucky today. Not only that you chose me, but that you aren't a stereotype." One hand cupped Stiles' cheek, the thumb caressing his pale skin. "I can't say that you won't piss me off at times, but I'm sure I'll do the same to you. We'll muddle through it."

Stiles didn't know what to say. He'd expected Peter to be angry. He hadn't expected a gentle touch. He did know one thing, though. Rather than call his dad, he'd come upstairs. He needed to get this over with. "Can we...can we just do it? I don't want to think about it anymore or argue about the law or be angry. I just..." Helplessly, his voice died away.

"All right. Do you need a few minutes to...?"

Powder his nose? No. He shook his head and started to toe off his shoes. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, but eventually he got it open and off, then moved on to his belt and jeans. As he stripped to a t-shirt and boxer shorts, he could hear Peter moving around the room and undressing as well. The overhead light went off, replaced by the bedside lamp on the far side of the bed. That side of the bed rustled and a quick glance showed him that the Alpha was under the sheets with them pulled to his shoulders. He wasn't looking at him, so Stiles snuck a longer look.

The scars went down his neck and over his shoulder and chest on the right side.

Oh.

Turning away, Stiles took a deep breath and pulled his t-shirt over his head before diving beneath the sheet. The mattress was firm, the pillows soft. Stiles felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He had a hundred questions and yet his tongue was frozen in his mouth.

Peter turned on his side and Stiles gulped.

"Have you had sex with anyone?"

That was an unexpected question. "No, you know that." He frowned in confusion and then the understanding hit and he felt himself blush. "Oh, um, no. I haven't even kissed anyone." Right, no way for anyone to know if Omega males had sex with girls or guys for that matter as long as it was gay sex. He wanted to ask Peter the same question, but the man was in his thirties. He certainly wasn't a virgin.

"Do you know if you prefer males or females?"

"It doesn't matter." That was taken from him, too.

"Stiles, it does matter," Peter said softly, and his fingers brushed over his cheek, rolling it so they were facing each other. Unable to meet his eyes, Stiles stared at his chest.

"I'm attracted to both females and males. I've been with both as well, but obviously never an Omega Male or Female."

Stiles nearly said something stupid like 'so it's the best of both worlds for you' or ask him if he'd only topped, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. At least there was a better chance that Peter would treat him like a guy, but he didn't know how to ask that either. He knew that some Alpha Males feminized their Omega Males and the thought of that horrified Stiles--although not as much as the knowledge that less than two hundred years ago, many Omega Males with Alpha Male mates were castrated. At least that barbaric act was illegal in the States.

Still done on occasion, of course.

An involuntary shudder went through him.

"Stiles? Are you still with me?"

Startled, he nodded and, as he did, realized Peter had moved much closer to him. The sheet had slipped down, revealing the scars that ran down his arm to the wrist and didn't start to fade until below his nipple.

"Do they hurt?" he blurted out.

Peter seemed surprised, as if no one ever asked him that. "No. They itch sometimes. Do they bother you?" That question came out a bit hesitantly.

"No." They really didn't. The whole situation bothered him a whole lot more.

"Then you really are a very unique individual." His hand returned to Stiles' cheek, caressing him lightly. "You have perfect skin."

"I have weird moles."

"Beauty marks."

And Peter leaned down and kissed him. Stiles hadn't lied. It was his first kiss and he had no clue what to do, so he just let the Alpha guide him, opening his mouth when coaxed, trying not too be too wet or messy or weird. He supposed it was a good kiss. He just had nothing to compare it to.

When Peter pulled back, Stiles blinked up at him, the lamp backlighting him so that he seemed to glow and the scars fell into shadow. He was...handsome.

"There are Alphas who ignore Omega male masculinity. As I've had male lovers, that's not an issue with me, but I need to know what you prefer, Stiles. You have both a penis and a clitoris. Do you want me to arouse both?"

Oh God that was the most embarrassing... Stiles gurgled and turned bright red and he had no clue. He really hadn't expected to be given any options.

"Both?" Peter murmured against his cheek, then kissed him again, his hand sliding off his cheek and around his back to pull him closer.

Oh God, his mate was naked and hard. That was a hard dick pressing against his thigh through the thin cotton of his shorts.

He couldn't do this.

He didn't have a choice.

The kiss deepened. The hand on his back slid lower, played with the waistband of his boxer shorts then slipped inside. It was warm, dry and steady, a big contrast to his own hands that were sweaty and twitching away from Peter's skin. Stiles didn't know where to touch and not just because of the scars, but because he had no idea what he was doing.

For sixteen years he was a boy with a penis and for the last three and a half he'd known what to do with that penis to bring himself a lot of pleasure. Now he had other parts and he'd been too afraid to touch them more than for perfunctory cleaning. In a few minutes a guy was going to stick his dick in there.

Stiles had always imagined he'd be the one doing that.

"Let's get rid of these," Peter murmured against his cheek as he tugged on Stiles' shorts, and, knowing there was no choice, he lifted his hips and wriggled the thin cotton boxers to his ankles, then kicked them off. While that was happening, little kisses were being pressed to the moles on his face, the corners of his mouth, his eyelids, and for the first time he noticed the brush of roughened skin against his own.

The scars were bumpy and odd feeling, and, as Peter pulled back, Stiles opened his eyes and really looked at that side of the older man's face. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand and touched his cheek. Peter seemed to hold his breath until Stiles' fingers moved, caressing, down his cheek and his neck to his shoulder.

"I don't know what to do."

He hadn't meant to say that, but Peter just nodded and kissed him again before turning him fully onto his back.

"I do."

As the Alpha turned onto his side, he pushed down the sheets, baring Stiles' body to his knees, and he could feel himself blushing deeply, his skin heating, and a nervous panting burst from him. He was sixteen and gangly and awkward, his limbs too long and his body too skinny. Even with the sheets still covering him half-way up his torso, Stiles could see Peter had well-developed muscles, though his body was leaner than most Alphas, probably due to the six year vegetative state. That he was in such good condition had to be a miracle or was an Alpha thing.

And Stiles was overthinking things to try to distract from the hands roaming over his chest and stomach and...

There was a hand on his dick, lifting it, exposing the lightly haired cleft beneath it.

Choking on his saliva, Stiles stared blankly at the ceiling while Peter's lips brushed over his nipples and his hand pumped his cock.

The first hint of arousal hit with both the swelling of the shaft of his dick and a bit of wetness leaking from the entrance to his body. Used to the first but not the second, he squirmed in embarrassment and flung an arm over his eyes.

Lips touched his belly button, the thinly covered bones of his pelvis, and then a tongue flicked over the head of his cock and Stiles yelped in surprise and pleasure.

"So responsive...So lovely. And all mine. Look at me, Stiles," Peter coaxed, satisfaction in his voice. Slowly he lowered his arm and looked down to see his mate smiling at him, something hungry in his eyes, and then he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around Stiles' cock, sucking half-way down the hardening shaft.

"Oh fuuuuck."

That felt good. So fucking good. Better than his hand ever had, and Peter'd only suckled once before pulling off and using his hand to bring him fully erect.

That was because he'd slid his mouth lower and was tonguing what had to be his clit.

It felt...different, but good...weird and achy but...

Stiles' body spasmed and pre-cum spilled over Peter's fingers and the achy feeling grew, making him hot and needy.

And, yet his cock throbbed, too.

Could he come both ways? For some reason his human sexuality course had barely touched on Omega Males, sticking to basic anatomy and pregnancy, ignoring the pleasure side of things.

Peter's lips fastened around his clit and sucked, and Stiles' hips bucked frantically.

"God," he wailed, his heels drumming, his fingers scrambling for purchase in the mattress, his whole body suddenly on fire with need. As he panted harshly, he realized Peter was moving over him, his body hard and hot and trembling, and Stiles' hands finally found somewhere to go--around the Alpha's back.

"Lift your legs and spread them just a bit more. That's it," Peter said softly as Stiles obeyed, his heels digging in, his legs falling open. His hard cock was pressed between their stomachs and he felt Peter's pushing against that now wet and aching cleft. "It's going to hurt."

Unable to meet his gaze, Stiles nodded and held on, trying to breathe evenly but there was an ache inside him and his clit was twitching in beat with his dick and he was as ready as he was going to be.

But...

"Can you kiss me when..." His question was interrupted with Peter's mouth on his, the kiss hungry and wet, and for the first time Stiles responded fully until pain made him jerk his head back and groan.

That wet space between his legs burned. Breathing into Stiles' neck, Peter thrust in and out, spreading the tight passage, making him ache in too many confusing ways, and then he pushed in harder and Stiles felt another burst of pain before their pelvises slapped together.

The pain had made his dick soften a bit. The brush of Peter's stomach over it as he rocked into him, hardened it again.

"So good," Peter crooned. "So wet and hot and tight." The Alpha rested his elbows and forearms on the pillow next to Stiles' head and he lifted his head to look down at him, all the while his hips were pulling back and pushing in at a steady rhythm. "Just breathe, Stiles. It'll feel better."

Flushing again, still unable to meet his eyes, Stiles swallowed and nodded and tried to just feel the pleasure of friction on his dick and ignore the weird full aching feeling in his cunt.

That was the first time he thought of it as anything really.
Inexplicable tears filled his eyes and he whimpered, and Peter's hips slowed, his lips pressed a soft kiss to his.

"Oh, love, don't cry. I know it hurts and feels strange."

He couldn't possibly, but Stiles bit back that comment and shook his head and swiped at the tears on his cheeks. His fingers were trembling and his legs were starting to ache from being spread around Peter's hips, and, yet, his dick was still hard and leaking against his stomach.

"Touch yourself," Peter encouraged, lifting to his knees, the change in angle making Stiles groan as the top of his cock was now rubbing the roof of his sore vagina, but each thrust was also starting to feel a bit...pleasureful, and there was a swelling at the base of Peter's cock that just added to the feeling of fullness. His knot.

Lowering one hand, Stiles wrapped it around his dick and pumped it back to full hardness and kept pumping until his hips rose and his body shook and he came. He barely realized his vaginal muscles tightened until Peter shuddered over him, cursing softly, his hips thrusting wildly, but his fully formed knot locked inside Stiles.

With the wetness filling him, the soreness inside faded a bit and Stiles relaxed, his legs falling all the way open, his hand sliding away from his limp, wet dick. Tears gone, he finally looked into Peter's eyes and saw how dark and dilated they were, before the Alpha groaned and carefully rolled them onto their sides.

Stiles knew all the data about knots and locks and the average length of time they'd stay together, but it was difficult to adjust to it. The muscles that had tightened around Peter's cock wouldn't relax and the knot made him feel so full. It pressed against something inside him that was almost pleasureful. Peter seemed to enjoy it as well, as he was rocking his hips slowly, not enough to try to pull out, but keeping them together.

While he was pretty sure he wasn't fertile at the moment, this was how he'd get pregnant, locked with his Alpha and the sperm sinking deeper into his cunt, seeking his egg.

A whimper broke from him.

He didn't want that. Not at sixteen. Not with someone he barely knew. Maybe not ever.

"Shhh, it's okay, Stiles. You're doing beautifully." As he spoke softly, Peter peppered his cheeks and neck with kisses, his hands stroking over his back and hips.

Closing his eyes, Stiles tried to just accept, and waited.

Finally, he felt his muscles loosen and the knot shrink, and Peter pulled back. When his dick slipped free, Stiles hissed at a bit of soreness, then made a face as wetness dripped out as well. Alphas with Omegas produced a lot of semen and not all of it stayed in.

Sex was messier with two, that was for sure.

When Peter snorted in amusement as he turned onto his back, Stiles realized he must have said that out loud and made a mortified noise, before scrabbling for the sheet to cover himself. He was still trembling. He was still sore. And now he was sticky. Embarrassed and confused, he turned away from Peter, curling into a loose ball, the sheet pulled to his chin.

The hand on his shoulder wasn't a real surprise. "Stiles?" Nor was the concern. Peter definitely wasn't what he'd expected his Alpha would be like.

That should be a good thing but Stiles felt...off.

"I'm okay," he said hoarsely, hoping it would be enough because he didn't want to talk about what had just happened, what would happen again--God, please not tonight; he couldn't handle that, even though Peter had been kind.

He just wanted to sleep and hopefully not dream at all.

Peter's hand stroked down his arm and back up, sending a shiver through him, but not of fear. He just wasn't used to being touched like this. "I'd like to hold you," the Alpha said gently.

It wasn't really a request.

"Okay," Stiles whispered, throat closing as the emotions he'd been trying to hold back finally hit. He didn't want to be held. He wanted to go home.

The light behind him went out and then Peter curled behind him, loosely wrapping an arm over his waist and placing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. Stiles could feel his naked body touching his own, but didn't try to stop it.

He knew he had no real right to stop any of this.

A tear slid down his cheek and he turned his face more fully into his pillow, allowing just enough room to breathe, as he silently cried.

Waking up feeling groggy with his head stuffed up, and out of sorts, not to mention sore between his legs in a way that was completely foreign was not pleasant. Stiles' eyes were crusted with salt from his tears, he was sweaty from the blankets he didn't remember pulling up, piled over every bit of him but his head, and when he moved, he groaned at the ache in his overused thigh muscles.

To top it all off, he had a low grade headache.

Carefully rolling onto his back, he realized the bed and the room were empty, and he tried to relax, finally kicking everything but the sheet to his feet to try to cool off. Stomach itching, he scratched at it and made a face at the dried semen stuck there.

He wanted a shower.

And he had to pee.

The bedside clock showed him it was barely seven, but then he figured he'd been asleep by eight the night before. Amazingly he'd slept for nearly eleven hours without awakening. Wondering where his mate was, he carefully rolled to the edge of the bed and up to his feet. His legs trembled a bit, but the ache between them wasn't bad. Moving to his suitcase which had been lifted and set on a stand--they had those outside of hotels?--he opened it and pulled out his toiletry bag and a set of clean clothes, then went into the bathroom.

A half hour or so later he emerged from the shower feeling somewhat better, at least clean and refreshed. Cleaning up the bit of dried blood and both their cum had been nasty and he'd done it quickly, not looking at any of it. His cunt--he was going to call it that because vajayjay was too stupid, vagina too clinical, pussy too like a cat and he liked cats, and he was a man, dammit--was a bit sore but nothing bad. As he'd carefully washed himself there, his finger had brushed over his clit and he couldn't help but remember the feel of Peter's tongue. Blushing, he'd quickly moved on to washing his hair.

Dressed in dark brown pants and a dark red cotton sweater, he brushed his teeth and applied gel to his damp hair and stared at his reflection in the foggy mirror.

He didn't look any different.

But, he felt completely different.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles pushed away from the counter and headed back into the bedroom. His eyes were immediately drawn to the messy bed and he blushed at the sight of smeared reddish brown on the bottom sheet.

His virgin blood.

Well, at least he'd pass the test this evening. The government wouldn't take him away and give him to Jackson.

For better or for worse, for the rest of their lives, he was Peter's.

Swallowing hard, Stiles turned from the bed and left the bedroom. The scent of coffee reached him immediately and he went straight to the kitchen. A shrinking violet he wasn't, and he wouldn't hide from his Alpha.

Peter sat at the table reading the newspaper, drinking coffee and nibbling on a danish. "Good morning," he said, looking up, no discernible emotion on his face, except maybe...wariness?

"Um, morning." Nervously scratching the back of his neck, Stiles nodded towards the counter where a box of pastries and the coffee pot sat. "Can I just help myself?"

"Of course." Peter seemed a bit surprised at his hesitance. As Stiles went to fix himself a cup of sugary coffee, he continued, "Everything in this house belongs to you as well. You don't have to ask permission to eat or watch tv or read a book. I just ask that if you go into my study, you don't move anything around. I know it looks like a mess, but I have a system."

Taking a seat, Stiles gave him a surprised look. "You work?"

"Before the fire I was writing a book on the decline of the British aristocracy between the wars. I've started on it again, slowly, as I'm not at full strength and I'm having to remember what some of the notes I took actually meant, but it's fulfilling to be working on it again, and to find that, in the last six years, no one has written something similar."

"So, you're a historian?"

"Yes, I had just finished my Ph.D. from Berkeley two years before. I was in no rush to find a job, but my dissertation on the Mitford family and its reception in the academic community had inspired me to write something broader. I like writing."

As he digested that knowledge, Stiles took a bite of a strawberry danish. He wanted to ask, well, a lot of things, including if he could go back to school, but he didn't know how to.

"I was given your school records. Mostly As, a few extra-curriculars. I understand they took you off the lacrosse team when you presented."

"It's okay," he mumbled. "I just rode the bench."

"Do you have a favorite subject?"

Stiles tried to hide his excitement over the use of the present tense. "Um, I like math actually, and physics. So much better than last semester's chemistry class, but then that teacher hated me."
Folding and setting aside the newspaper he'd stopped reading, Peter took a sip of coffee, then leaned back in his chair. "We should talk about your schooling. Do you want to go back?"

Nearly choking on a bite of pastry, Stiles quickly nodded. Despite their talk at dinner--before it had gone bad--about Peter being a different kind of Alpha, almost all claimed Omegas stayed at home, and, if they were educated at all, it was by their mate.

"And once you get pregnant? As long as you're healthy and the doctors have no concerns, I won't stop you, but that's up to you, Stiles. As the first Omega Male in a generation in Beacon Hills, there might be...well, teenagers can be cruel."

"And I'd be a knocked up guy, yeah, but...Yeah, I want to continue with school, graduate. I just..." He knew the hope was shining in his eyes, but he was just so surprised.

"I want to be able to have intelligent conversations with my mate for the next fifty or so years, Stiles. We'll even see about college if you want, though you might have to just take a few courses each semester." A serious look crossed Peter's scarred face and he leaned forward again, placing his hands flat on the table. "I don't care about your housekeeping skills or making you do all the grocery shopping or the laundry or the cooking, but I do expect you to raise our children. I plan to be a hands-on father, but, well, frankly, even an Omega as non-traditional as you will feel the pull to parent."

He'd read about that. While he still wasn't sure he wanted kids, he knew that the Omega specific hormones would make him love any he birthed. Omega parents were incredibly loving and protective, fierce even. Stiles just refused to call it maternal instinct.

He wasn't going to be a mother.

"Yeah, okay. I...thank you, Peter." That he felt the need to thank his Alpha for letting him go to school, something that was a right for 99% of the population of most of the Western world made him feel a bit bitter, but he hadn't expected it and did feel grateful.

"So, back on Monday?"

"Yeah." It was Saturday. He could get the homework from the day before from Scott, his schoolbooks from his dad. "Um...I have my own car."

"I'll make arrangements to have it delivered before Monday morning."

Stiles felt like jumping for joy. He could drive his jeep!

"Can I have friends over?"

"Of course." Peter's face finally lightened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "I don't want this to be horrible for either of us, Stiles. We have a lot we need to get used to. We don't know each other, but we have a very long time together to do so."

"I...I didn't expect this." He was choking up again, dammit.

Reaching across the table, Peter took one of his fidgeting hands. "I know. Honestly I didn't expect you either. I figured the Omega I claimed would be a typical one and would be happy to stay at home and never read anything more than a tabloid or watch anything on tv other than the Bachelor or something equally horrendous, and, well, I work at home. I think that would drive me crazy, to have my mate here all the time. I want you to have a life outside of me, just like I want one outside of you."

Stiles realized he was nodding frantically through all of that and forced himself to stop.

"I've been slowly reconnecting with old friends, getting to know my family again. I'm hoping Derek, Laura and Cora will move back here, that they'll rebuild the house. I don't plan to leave Beacon Hills except to travel, and, as I mentioned, I love to travel. I want to show you and our children the world."

"I've never been further than my grandparents' in Tacoma. I'm very small town."

"But, very intelligent, too."

"I...I always wanted to go to Poland and see where my dad's family was from. They left right after World War II. I still have relatives there. And Wales. My mom's family was Welsh. I don't think there's anyone left there as they came to the States before the Revolutionary War, but mom always wanted to go there."

"I love Great Britain, one of the reasons I chose to focus on British history. I've been several times, though never to Wales. We could go this summer."

"Even if I'm pregnant?" Stiles hesitantly asked.

"Again, as long as the doctors have no worries. You would only be a few months and Omegas rarely miscarry."

"I'd...I'd like to go to England, to Wales. I just..." He had to be honest. "I'm not sure I want kids. I mean, I know I will when I have them, but, I never really thought about having them and, then, y'know, I was going to be the one fathering them sometime in the nebulous future. I have no clue what to do with a baby."

The smile on Peter's face was real. He wasn't angry and Stiles felt relief flood him. "I don't either. We'll figure it out." He squeezed his hand, then rose to get more coffee. "I'm going to put in a few hours work. Why don't you unpack and get used to the house? I had Derek buy and furnish it, though thankfully he hired someone else to decorate; I swear the boy would have it all in black and grey if he'd done it himself. If you don't like something, we can change it. I'm not attached to anything but the artwork and the antiques. Thankfully, right before the fire I'd moved into an apartment and put all the furniture I'd inherited and my art in storage until I found a bigger place."

"I'm sixteen. My idea of decorating is what band poster to stick on my wall."

Chuckling, Peter headed out of the kitchen, pausing only to brush his hand across the top of Stiles' head.

It felt...nice.

After unpacking--there was an entire empty dresser for his clothes and half the walk-in closet--and stripping and remaking the bed, Stiles found the utility room off the kitchen and started a load with the soiled sheets. He just hoped that soaking got out the dried blood because the sheets were a thousand thread count. While the washing machine ran, he explored the house, avoiding only the closed door on the main floor which he figured was Peter's study and where the Alpha was spending the morning.

The house was not overly large--four bedrooms upstairs, the master one en suite, the others sharing a large family bath; living room, family room, dining room, eat-in kitchen, half-bath, and the study on the main floor with a full but unfinished daylight basement. It was nicely decorated but, in Stiles' opinion, rather lacking in originality. Kind of like it came out of a brochure. As he moved from room to room he pictured other furniture and decor in various spots and wondered if Peter had been honest about letting him change things.

If so, and if they were going to stay here--and, frankly, the house was perfect for a starter family and in a quiet cul-de-sac with a large, fenced back yard--one of the first things that had to go was the ugly leather sofa in the family room. It had those big brass buttons along the edges, something he really disliked. Also, he hoped they could finish at least daylight part of the basement into a space for him and his gaming systems and comics--and, he supposed, a playroom for their future kids.

Stiles was a bit disgruntled that his mindset was already shifting towards wanting or at least accepting the fact that there'd be kids, and probably soon. Omegas were remarkably fertile.

At that thought, he found himself blushing at the memories of the night before, especially the feel of Peter's knot locked inside him, and the weird pleasure that had wrought. He wondered if the Alpha had enjoyed it--the knot only formed with Omegas so that was his first time as well.

Stiles was pretty sure he wasn't going to get up the nerve to ask him any time soon.

Ending up back in the bedroom after throwing the sheets in the dryer--the stain had come out thankfully--Stiles carried his backpack over to a loveseat between the windows and took out his phone. Peter hadn't asked for it, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't, but, still his fingers trembled as he unlocked it and opened up his contacts. After staring at the list a few minutes, and having to refresh the screen as it kept dimming, he took a deep breath and touched the screen to dial his dad.

All the while inwardly snarling at the tiny side of him that kept saying he needed his Alpha's permission.

"Stiles?"

"Hey, dad." There was an urgency in his dad's voice that made him smile. Yeah, calling him to reassure him was the right thing to do.

"What's wrong? Stiles, what happened, why are you calling? Are you okay?" John said in a rush.

"Dad, dad, I'm fine, I promise. I just wanted to let you know I'm fine and it's...it's okay. I'm okay."

"Do you have his permission to call?"

Geez, even his dad was buying into the primacy of Alphas now? "Dad, he's different. I don't have to ask for permission for every little thing. He's letting--I'm going back to school on Monday and we're going to get me my jeep. He said you can come to dinner every week. It's not--dad, it could be so much worse. I think we'll do okay together," he added softly, admitting it to himself as well.

He heard the sigh of relief and smiled again. "I'm glad, kiddo. I was so damn worried I'd have to storm the gates to rescue you."

At that, Stiles chortled, though he was also incredibly touched because his dad would do that for him. "No storming needed. Peter's not a stereotypical Alpha anymore than I'm a stereotypical Omega. I think this will work."

"And the two of you..."

Almost hearing the blush, he blushed as well. "No fear of me being taken away tonight by the government." He quickly changed the subject. "And, dad, we're going to go to England and Wales this summer."

"Stiles, I want you...Men will say a lot of things they don't mean," John began carefully.

"Dad, I know. I know he could be lying to me, could take everything back. I know I basically have no rights here, but...I think I trust him. I maybe kind of like him." As he'd wandered the house, he'd thought about that, as well, how Peter could be setting him up to make him fall for him or something and then snatch everything away, but Stiles didn't see duplicity in the Alpha. He saw...a genuine want to make a life together.

He could do that.

Somehow.

"Okay, I just worry. I've been worried for a month."

"Me, too, but I really think this will work. Trust me?"

"You know I do." John breathed deeply, then asked, "So, what's he like?"

After about a half hour on the phone and a promise to call again about dinner plans, Stiles plugged his dying phone in and called his best friend.

That talk went about the same, though Scott made more outrageous and worried noises. He was happy about seeing Stiles Monday for school, though, and they spent about five minutes imagining the pruney look Jackson's face was going to take on when he saw him.

By the time that conversation was over, it was nearly noon, and Stiles' stomach was rumbling. Returning downstairs, he knocked on the door to the study and called out, "Peter? It's lunch time; I can throw together some sandwiches. Anything in particular you like?"

A moment passed and then the door opened and Peter stepped out of what looked like a very messy room. "I'm not picky. Let's go see what we have."

Lunch over grilled cheese sandwiches with roasted red pepper soup was companionable. Stiles was hesitant at first, but, when encouraged mentioned some of the furniture changes he wouldn't mind seeing, as well as finishing the basement and adding a half-bath down there so Stiles wouldn't have to run upstairs every time he needed to pee while playing games. Peter seemed agreeable to all of it, but in the back of Stiles' mind lingered his father's and his own doubts that he was being set up only to have the rug pulled out from under him in the near future.

He wanted to trust his Alpha, his mate, but...

Later that day Derek brought him his jeep and schoolbooks and spent time with his uncle while Stiles nearly wept for joy over the keys, then did some of the homework he'd figured he wouldn't need to do.

Shortly before six, the doctors from the government and a very stern looking bureaucrat, all Betas, showed up, and Stiles submitted to the mandatory physical examination to prove he wasn't a virgin anymore. He wasn't sure to be grateful or not that Peter insisted on being in the room with him for it. It seemed like the possessive act of an Alpha, but since it lasted all of ten minutes and Peter remained quiet through it while the bureaucrat waited in the hall, Stiles tried not to let it bother him.

They were both relieved when they were left alone again, the paperwork all sealed and stamped and official.

For better or for worse, they were each others.

Peter was the one to say that, and that made Stiles feel better. Most Alphas would say their Omega now belonged to them.

Over a dinner of pork stirfry and rice, they discussed television shows Stiles liked and some of the movies Peter had missed. Turned out, he was a Marvel man and was looking forward to seeing from Iron Man on. Stiles made a mental note to have those delivered with his Xbox and Playstation. From his ability to wax on about the comic books--and how much he mourned their loss in the fire as they hadn't been moved out of his family home to his apartment or into storage at the time--Stiles knew Peter wasn't making any of that up.

It was nice to have something in common.

Surprising.

Another movie he'd missed--Red--was playing on cable and they watched that together in the family room, Peter agreeing that the sofa was not only ugly but uncomfortable, and then it was time for bed.

As the credits rolled, Stiles' stomach rolled right along with them as dread began to fill him. Stupid, because it wasn't like he didn't know what was coming.

"Why don't you go get ready for bed?" Peter suggested. "I'll turn out the lights and lock up and join you in a few minutes."

Nodding, Stiles tried to appear calm as he headed up the stairs, but ended up dashing down the hall and into the bedroom, only to be confronted by the bed. As he stared at it, he panted harshly until finally he forced himself under control. This was ridiculous. They'd already done it once. The worst--the not knowing--was over.

Straightening his spine and mentally frowning at himself, Stiles started to undress and was down to his pants when Peter came in and quietly closed the door behind him. Hands stilling on his belt buckle he turned to look at his mate.

"Um...should I put on pajamas?"

Peter's eyes were steady on his. "I don't expect to make love with you every night, but we're still in the honeymoon stage and I...I would like..."

The hesitation settled it for Stiles and he forced a smile onto his face. "Okay. I'll just be a minute." Retreating to the bathroom, he took care of business, brushed his teeth and stripped to his boxer shorts, before he returned to the bedroom. The bedding was pulled down, but Peter had only removed his shoes and socks. He gave Stiles a brief smile before taking his place in the bathroom.

Mentally preparing himself, Stiles pulled off his boxers and shoved his dirty clothes in the hamper before climbing beneath the sheet and laying down. Reaching back, he plumped the pillows, then settled again and waited. A few minutes later, Peter came out of the bathroom, naked. Having only seen bits the night before, Stiles blatantly stared.

Peter was built. Abs, pecs, biceps, glutes--every muscle was well developed, but not overly so.

And his dick...

Long and thick even when soft.

That had been inside him and would be again.

Stiles felt himself blushing.

And his cock started to twitch as arousal pooled in his stomach just at the sight of his mate.

Slipping into the bed, Peter immediately leaned down to kiss him and Stiles met him with open lips, his hands going around his Alpha's neck, his fingers slipping into his soft hair while Peter's found his chest, pinching his nipples into hardness.

Stiles moaned into the kiss and tugged Peter on top of him. As their hardening dicks rubbed together and that now familiar wetness flooded his cunt, he knew this would be okay.

After several minutes, Peter broke the kiss and started to slide down Stiles' body, only to stop when Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met, Peter's questioning.

"I...Can I use my mouth on you?"

The questioning look was replaced by eagerness and Peter flopped over onto his back. "You can do pretty much anything you want, Stiles."
That opened up some possibilities Stiles hadn't even thought about, but he shoved those thoughts aside as he turned onto his side and scooted down the bed until he was face to dick with his mate. Licking suddenly dry lips, he muttered, "I'm probably going to be really bad at this." Then he licked his palm and wrapped it around Peter's hard shaft, before lowering his head and flicking his tongue across the tip, tasting a bit of salt and smelling musk and clean skin. Growing bolder, he circled his tongue around the upper shaft while pumping the lower, then took the head into his mouth.

Peter groaned his name and shifted his hips restlessly, one hand going to Stiles' shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Good?"

"Yes," the Alpha hissed, and Stiles smiled and resumed sucking, taking a bit more of Peter's cock into his mouth until his lips touched his own hand. He started to bob his head and the taste of pre-cum hit his tongue. As Peter groaned and squirmed, Stiles felt his own cock start to leak and his cunt ache, and finally Peter pushed him off. "Need to be in you," he grunted as they changed positions and, on his back again, Stiles let his legs fall open as he pulled Peter on top of him.

"Did you like that?" Pretty sure the answer was 'yes' as Peter was flushed and rocking against him, Stiles didn't hold back his smirk.

"Yes, too much. Your mouth..." As he kissed him hungrily, Peter thrust into him and this time there was no pain, only fullness and heat, but after a few minutes, he pulled out and urged Stiles onto his hands and knees. When he pushed into him from behind, it felt so different, and Stiles moaned in pleasure. Firm hands took his hips, pulling him back onto the Alpha's cock until the knot pushed inside and locked them together. As Peter came with a groan and a shudder, he reached around and quickly pumped Stiles' cock until he came as well, spilling over the sheets and sending him to his elbows as he trembled in pleasure.

Draping over his back, Peter pressed kisses to his neck and shoulders until lowering them and turning them onto their sides. As Stiles turned his head to give him a sloppy kiss, he felt his mate's fingers, slick with his cum, start to finger his clit, and he shuddered into a second, different orgasm, tightening even more around the cock buried inside him, sending another burst of cum deep into his cunt.

He fell asleep with them still locked together.

Around dawn, Stiles was awakened by a throb in his groin and blinked blearily, only to find Peter between his spread legs, giving him an enthusiastic blowjob while two fingers pushed in and out of his cunt and a slippery thumb pressed into the tight furl of his asshole. His whole body twitched in pleasure overload, and he didn't know what felt better or how he was going to come first.

His squirming and bucking made Peter look up and pull off his dick with a wet pop, but his fingers never stopped and Stiles wriggled, pushing down onto them. "Good morning."

Stiles gurgled and spasmed around the now three fingers rubbing at his hot, swollen cunt.

The thumb in his ass pushed deeper and Stiles howled and shook, on the edge of orgasm.

"When you're pregnant, will you let me fuck your sweet ass, Stiles?"

Oh...fuck...yes... He wanted that. He wanted it all. Somehow he gasped out an affirmative, and then Peter's mouth was on his cock again, sliding down until his nose pressed against the pubic bone and his throat fluttered around the tip, and Stiles felt his balls and cunt muscles tighten, and then he was coming in both ways.

Semen glistening on his lips and chin, Peter pulled off, then quickly moved up to replace his fingers with his cock, fucking into him hard and fast. Stiles' asshole spasmed closed and he couldn't help but imagine the dick pumping into him, pushing into him there, spreading him wide, hitting his prostate.

"Good?" Peter grunted, propped over him, hips moving quickly as Stiles' heels drummed on the mattress and his fingers clenched into his mate's shoulders.

"Yes. God, yes. Oh...I think..." Jerking his hips up, he dug his hands into Peter's ass and fucked him back. "I'm going to come again," he gasped out, because while his cock was soft and spent, his clit was twitching and that white heat he was growing used to was building again.

Reaching between them, Peter spread wetness up his cleft and pinched his clit and that was all it took.

Stiles yelled incoherently and orgasmed again. As he clutched Peter to him he felt the knot slip inside and, despite being sore from the night before, he locked it into him, causing Peter to fling his head back and come with a loud groan of his name.

Hours later, when Stiles was reclining back between Peter's legs, being fed bits of donuts by his Alpha and feeling incredibly lazy and warm and so fucking good, all he could think about was that he was pretty sure this was going to work between them.

After a lazy afternoon spent on the ugly couch watching a couple pro basketball games--a sport Peter really enjoyed and had played as an undergraduate at Michigan, as, unlike football, basketball was a sport Alphas could play on the collegiate level as long as they controlled their natural aggression--and chatting about a variety of subjects, Stiles finished his homework while skyping with Scott, and Peter made homemade pizza for dinner. Stiles cleaned up the remnants of the meal while Peter made a few phone calls, and then they watched a movie--Red 2 this time--before going to bed.

This time just to sleep, though they kissed before turning off the lamps and settling in, both wearing pajama pants and t-shirts.

It was comfortable and nice and Stiles slept like the dead, only to be awakened much too early by the alarm on his phone going off. Sleepily he stretched, then reached over to put the alarm into snooze mode, and snuggled back down into the warm bed, before remembering he wasn't alone. Prying one eye open, he watched Peter rise from the bed and head into the bathroom. When he emerged a few minutes later, the snooze alarm was going off.

"You're going to be late," Peter chided, but he was smiling, and Stiles yawned and finally dragged himself up and off the bed. Scratching his stomach, he staggered into the bathroom and a hot shower.

Coffee and cheerios were waiting for him in the kitchen and Peter was hanging up the phone. As he munched his way through a large bowl of healthy oat circles, his mate joined him at the table.

"I called the school to let them know you'd be returning." He frowned slightly. "They seemed surprised."

"Well, it's not the norm. Thanks." He resented that the call had to be made, but it would make things easier. Hopefully. "What are you doing today?"

"Working a bit, and I have a doctor's appointment at one thirty. Just a routine check-up. I should be home by the time school is out." Peter's eyes met his. "Call me if you have any problems."

They'd exchanged cell numbers the day before and Stiles nodded. "You, too." Chugging his coffee, he rose, then hesitated a moment before leaning down and giving Peter a kiss. "Bye."

The last thing he saw was Peter's fingers on his lips, a bemused look on his face.

Putting the jeep into park in the outer row of student parking, Stiles grabbed his backpack, took a deep breath, and headed towards the school. To his relief, he saw Scott waiting for him on the steps, a smile on his face. They did the bro back slap, then joined the throng heading inside.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine." At his best friend's skeptical look, Stiles rolled his eyes. "Really, Scott."

"Okay. If you say so. Did you understand the last two algebra questions?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. You can copy at lunch." Reaching his locker, Stiles spun the dial, then shoved his backpack inside before taking out the book and notebook he'd need for English. As he started to close the locker door, Scott stiffened beside him.

"What the Hell are you doing here? Did you run away?" Jackson asked in disbelief and Stiles turned only to find himself pressed against the lockers by the angry Alpha who was glaring at him and pulling out his phone. "I'm calling the cops. No, make that my dad and he'll call the government and you'll be in so much trouble." His glare had turned gleeful.

"Yeah, you do that, asshole," Stiles snapped, shoving at him. "Get out of my face."

"You're so going to be mine, and you're going to pay for not picking me," Jackson gloated. "Hey, dad..."

"Get off him," Scott growled, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away, only to be knocked on his ass.

"Just a minute, dad. Gotta take care of something first."

Stiles pushed harder until Jackson's arm pinned him by his throat, making him gasp for air. He couldn't believe this was happening! He'd expected Jackson to be pissed, but to assault an Omega?

Dimly he realized a crowd had formed, noisy and curious, but not doing anything, not even helping Scott struggle to his feet.

And Stiles got mad. Balling up his fist he put all his strength behind it and punched Jackson in the nose.

To his delight, blood spurted and the Alpha fell back, clutching his face in shock, and Stiles eagerly dragged in air, then pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

While a mated Omega's Alpha could do pretty much anything they wanted to their mate, no one else could. Omegas were considered fragile, and, while unlikely, Stiles could already be pregnant, so assaulting an Omega was a felony.

But, Stiles didn't want the douche arrested, so instead of calling his dad or Peter, he snapped a couple of pictures of Jackson whining and crying over his broken nose.

"Are you okay?" Scott demanded as a couple teachers finally showed up to break up the crowd and help Jackson to his feet.

"What happened?" the principal asked briskly as she arrived, worry filling her eyes as she realized one of the people involved was Stiles.

"Jackson wasn't looking where he was walking and ran into my open locker door." He tried not to look too satisfied when she eagerly accepted the explanation.

If he told the truth, Peter would be fully within his rights to sue the school district for failing to protect his Omega mate, but they didn't need the money and Stiles didn't need the fallout. He just wanted to get through the next two months and the following two years with as little hassle as possible.

Sliding his arm through Scott's, Stiles tugged him out of the dispersing group of students towards their English class. "God that felt good."

"You broke his nose," Scott whispered in amazement, a huge smile on his face.

"So not a stereotypical Omega," Stiles replied proudly.

Not surprisingly, the rest of the day passed without incident and with no sign of Jackson.

By lunch time, Stiles learned that Jackson had spread the rumor that he'd decided Stiles wasn't worth offering for and that some old man had gotten him. He also knew that Jackson's actions that morning had made about half the student body wonder, but no one had the nerve to ask him. The other half, didn't care one way or another. A couple of his teachers treated him with kid gloves, but then they had ever since he presented. Most of them didn't and he could live with it.

At the end of his econ class, Finstock, the only Alpha teacher at the school and, in fact, the whole district, beckoned him over and hemmed and hawed for a moment before stuffing a piece of paper in his hand. "If you need to talk to someone," he muttered, before waving him out of the classroom.

Confused, Stiles unfolded the paper as he walked and saw a phone number and the name 'Drew Finstock.'

As that wasn't Coach's first name, was that his Omega?

Huh, Stiles never would have thought Coach was mated. He sure was grouchy enough not to be getting laid regularly. Or at all.

Shoving the paper in his pocket, he headed to his World History class, silently swearing to pay attention so he could talk history with his mate.

Later, on the drive home, he realized his knuckles were bruised from the punch, and dithered over a couple different lies, then sighed as he pulled into the driveway. He could hope that Peter wouldn't notice, but that was unlikely.

The tiny part of him that still wasn't sure his Alpha wasn't a stereotype cringed, but, ignoring it, Stiles strode into the house determined to be truthful.

To a point. His neck was fine. No need to mention that.

Peter was at the kitchen table opening the mail and, when Stiles entered, he smiled. "How was school?"

He seemed...nervous, like he expected something to go wrong, but he'd still let Stiles go.

That bolstered Stiles' own confidence and he replied, "Okay. Typical school," as he passed him to fetch a bottle of Coke from the fridge. He noticed they were running low on things like milk, eggs, bread--pretty much everything. "We need to go to the grocery."

"I've just been ordering online."

Stiles joined him at the table and cracked open the bottle, taking a sip. "You never get the best fruit and vegetables that way. I don't mind doing the shopping. I did it for dad most of the time."

"All right. We can make a list tonight. I thought, if you didn't have a lot of homework, we could go out for dinner. Nothing fancy, but I've rarely left the house since I moved in two weeks ago and, it's not like I'm ashamed or..." He shrugged.

"Sounds great. Have you been to McNish's Deli?"

"Not for many years." Smiling softly, Peter set aside the mail.

"How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Clean bill of health. I'm still not back to full strength and I have physical therapy for muscle stimulation three times a week for the next two months, but I'll be fine soon enough." His fingers went to his cheek. "They mentioned skin grafts. It...might not work completely."

"That's up to you, Peter." Reaching over, Stiles took his free hand and squeezed it. "I like you the way you are."

Peter gave him a look of amazement. "You really don't see the ugliness."

Smiling, Stiles shook his head. In fact, he barely noticed the scars at all.

Peter smiled back, but when he looked at their joined hands, the smile dropped away. "Stiles? Why are your knuckles bruised?" His eyes darkened. "What really happened today? Were you hurt?" he growled.

"No. I'm fine, really. I...Jackson decided I had to have run away from you, so he pinned me to the lockers and when Scott tried to pull him away, shoved him down, and started to call his dad to call the government, and I wasn't about to waste time explaining to the douchebag, so I punched him in the nose. Broke it," he added proudly.

The dark anger fled from Peter's face, replaced by shock, then...the Alpha laughed and lifted their joined hands to his lips for a kiss. "Oh, my darling Omega, you certainly aren't a stereotype." Their eyes met, Peter's twinkling a bright blue, as he said, "You still could have called me."

He didn't say 'should'. He didn't expect Stiles to have called, to run to his Alpha for protection. He...

For Stiles that was the final dollop of cement that proved to him he'd made the right choice.

"Yeah, I know I could have, but I can take care of myself, and I'm pretty sure that Jackson won't bother me again. He came this close to being arrested and getting the school sued."

"I would have supported you if you'd gone that route."

"But, you won't make me, right?"

Peter kissed the bruised knuckles again. "Right. But, if someone does actually harm you, I may not be able to restrain myself from kicking their ass right into your father's jail."

That promise sent a frisson of pleasure through Stiles, because he was enough of an Omega to find the strength and desire to keep his mate from harm traits he didn't mind seeing in his Alpha. "As long as I can help."

"Deal."

Yep, this was so going to work.

Rising to his feet, but never breaking the hold on Peter's hand, Stiles slid onto his lap, straddling his thighs, startling him. His eyes darkened again, but this time not in anger but desire.

"Stiles?" he asked, amused.

"I don't have any homework I can't get done in study hall tomorrow, and we have at least two hours before dinner time..." Leaning down, Stiles kissed him, all heat and tongue.

"Some day I'll be strong enough to pick you up and carry you upstairs," Peter growled a promise as his hands squeezed Stiles' ass until he squirmed and moaned. "For now, go. I'll be right behind you."

Scrambling off his lap onto shaky legs, Stiles moaned, "I wanna ride you. Can I ride your dick?" He palmed his own dick through his jeans and watched Peter's eyes go there, hot and needy.

A little over two years later, Stiles grinned as he took the stairs onto the stage two at a time, his black gown swirling around his knees, the golden tassel of his cap bouncing off his cheek. Finished with her Valedictorian speech, Lydia gave him a sweet smile and a tight hug, whispering, "Kick ass," before flouncing off the stage. Stiles followed her progress with a bemused look on his face, still wondering how they'd become such good, tight friends in the last two years.

Turning to the podium, he pull his phone out of his pocket and called up his Salutatorian speech, then looked out over the crowd in the gym. Front and center sat his mate, a huge grin of pride on his face, as he bounced their sixteen month old daughter, Olivia, on his knee. Next to him was Stiles' dad, recording everything. The other Hales were there as well, as they'd moved home for good the previous summer. Cora was sitting with the other graduates next to Scott and their friend, Isaac. All three waved at him.

Stiles grinned and launched into his speech, getting a lot of laughs, a few hastily wiped away tears from his dad, and even a look of semi-approval from Derek. Peter just continued to look proud, but then he'd read the speech and knew what was coming.

"So, yeah, be all you can be, go out there and kick butt and rule the world, though I'm pretty sure Lydia's already half way there." That got a thumbs up from his only real scholastic rival and he grinned at her. "Don't do anything to get yourself arrested, or at least don't be stupid enough to get caught." An eye roll from his dad. "And don't let anything hold you back." The grin left his face and his eyes drifted over to the teachers and their spouses. Coach and Drew were holding hands, both smiling in pride, a banner draped upside down over their knees. "Don't ever let anyone try to pigeonhole you because you're white or black or a girl or a boy or gay or straight or like comic books or science or fashion blogs or eating peeps, though I may judge you on the latter because those things are nasty. But, especially, don't let anyone force you into a role you're not made for, that you weren't raised for." As he spoke, he started to unfasten the robe, and watched as his friends, his family, his mate who helped their daughter first, removed their outer shirts and jackets, revealing white t-shirts with a symbol and a simple phrase that were becoming more common. The Finstocks held up their banner as well.

There were some shocked noises, a rumble of displeasure from some of the older people--none from the graduating and other students, a good thirty percent of whom had revealed the t-shirts--and out of the corner of his eye Stiles saw the head of the school board start to stand, outrage on his face, but then he saw that the Sheriff was wearing a t-shirt as well, and sank back down.

"So, yeah, my name is Stiles Stilinski and I'm an Omega. I have a brain and a womb and I'm using both." With his left hand he patted his flat stomach where his second child slept. "My choice isn't for all Omegas but we should have the right to make it, to be equals to all of you who never have to worry about it. I have the full support of my Alpha, my lover and husband and mate, but even if I didn't I'd still be in this fight, because above all else, I'm a person."

"So, support our cause or not, but if you don't I suggest you get out of our way because our numbers are growing, and I think you'll be surprised at the number of Alphas who've joined us, not to mention so many of the next generation of Betas who are going to be running the world in a few decades. And if you want to debate me, I'm already signed up for the debate club at Berkeley in the Fall, and our first topic is Omega rights. I'll beat the pants off of anyone. Well, probably not Lydia, but she's on our side."

A cheer went up, a lot of it coming from the graduating seniors, even those who didn't have on the t-shirts, and there was applause from many of the parents and families as well.

Yeah, their cause was growing.

Stiles smiled at the triskele on the front of his daughter's shirt as she waved at him and giggled 'papa, papa' over and over, and knew that it didn't matter what she presented as in fourteen and a half years. By then, they would have changed the world for her.

Leaving the stage, he walked right into Peter's arms, pressing their daughter between them, as they kissed.

"I love you, Stiles."

"Love you, too, Peter."

End

Notes:

There is actually a book on the topic Peter is writing on: David Cannadine's brilliant "The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy". It's my favorite history book ever (and considering that I'm a historian, that says a lot).